


Ask Nicely

by SlimReaper



Series: The Chemicals-verse [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Begging, Canon-Typical Violence, Dominant Ultra Magnus, Fingering, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, NSFW, Size Difference, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Use Your Words, consent is important, iopele, submissive Rodimus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5176787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimReaper/pseuds/SlimReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus Prime goes into heat aboard the <em>Lost Light</em> and Ultra Magnus wins the right to spend it with him. And as always, if Ultra Magnus is going to do something, he is going to <em>excel</em> at it. Hot and spicy with a sweet, fluffy finish!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask Nicely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fransoun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fransoun/gifts).



> This fic is for the wonderful optronixes (autobotmischief)!

Ultra Magnus was finding it very, very hard to think.

Walking was also proving a challenge, as well as remembering what level his quarters were on. He shook his helm hard in a futile effort to dispel the fog from his processor and pressed onward, determined to make it to his quarters without completely losing his dignity.

The squirming, whimpering burden in his arms was making that extremely difficult.

Rodimus, so often the cause of Ultra Magnus being driven to distraction, tightened his arms around his neck and pressed as much of his frame against Magnus’ as possible as he leaned up to nibble along his jawline. “Hurry,” he moaned over and over, kissing every inch of his jaw and neck that he could reach. “Hurry, hurry, hurry…”

Oh yes, Ultra Magnus was hurrying. His long legs ate up the distance and he couldn’t even spare the slightest bit of concern for the grins the pair of them were gathering from those they passed along the way. For once, the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord cared nothing for the dignity of his job or the perception of others.

Every bit of his attention was bound up in the solid, satisfying weight of his captain in his arms and the delicious scent rising from Rodimus’ plating.

The sensation of his hungry mouth sucking and biting at sensitive places on Magnus’ throat that he’d almost forgotten existed.

The heat pouring off his lithe frame, as though the flames decorating his plating had come alive.

The growing desperation in every repetition of  _hurry, hurry_.

The desperate lust saturating the EM field now imprinted firmly on his.

Ultra Magnus had never won a courtship fight before, and his coding’s demands that he answer the stark need in Rodimus’ field were stronger than anything he had ever anticipated. His spark surged with energy, charge building in every line, fans already blowing hard to dispel the heat building in his frame, and it was becoming progressively more difficult to resist the urge to give in and take what they both wanted so badly, privacy be damned.

But Ultra Magnus had made his reputation on his dedication to complete discipline and he was not going to frag his captain in the corridor like some common delinquent. He was in charge of his frame, not the other way around, and no Primus-damned heat coding was going to change that.

Somehow he made it to his quarters, although everything after getting out of the lift was lost in a heated blur. As determined as Magnus was to maintaining control, Rodimus showed a complete  _lack_ of it, and he didn’t stop kissing every bit of Magnus that he could reach even after Magnus put him down outside his door. Somehow he managed to input his access code correctly on the first try, too, and if his hand was shaking when he entered it, well, the way Rodimus was flicking his glossa along the seams of his chest armor was certainly reason enough for that, and no one was here to see and fault him for the lapse. Somehow he managed to get Rodimus inside and even remembered to enter the security code that no one on the ship save the Chief Medical Officer or the captain could override.

The door slammed behind them and locked with a satisfying  _thunk._

And Ultra Magnus grabbed his captain and pinned him to the wall with his arms stretched far above his helm before the beautiful speedster could finish dismantling the last of his control. All the months of flirting, of wondering if Rodimus meant it or if it was just his way, all the nights of imagining what might happen if the next time Rodimus touched him, Magnus dared to reach out and touch back. But he could touch him all he wanted now…

 _No!_  He was not an animal and he would  _not_  act like one! “Stop, Rodimus,” he growled, his already-deep voice emerging static-laced and an octave lower than normal as he fought the desire racing through his frame.

Rodimus moaned and arched against the wall but he couldn’t budge Magnus’ grip. Even pinned in place, even half out of his mind with heat, Rodimus knew how to move for maximum enticement. His biolights pulsed with every increasingly desperate attempt to escape, to get his hands back onto Magnus’ plating. Oh, Rodimus all revved-up and trembling was the sexiest thing Magnus had ever seen and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the way he stretched his spinal strut and tilted his hips as though reaching for him with every inch of that gorgeous frame. “I can’t, I can’t stop, please,” he whimpered, “Please, I need you, I’ll do anything, Magnus, anything, I’ve wanted this for so long,  _please!_ ” His panel snapped open to expose his recessed spike--disabled for the duration of his heat--and his valve, glistening with lubricants.

 _Already so wet, so very wet for_ me _…_

Ultra Magnus drew in a deep steadying breath through his vents before realizing that was a bad idea. Rodimus’ heat pheromones saturated the air, inflaming his lust, weakening his control, and that was the very last thing Magnus needed right now. He drew on a lifetime of discipline and forced his own panel to remain closed. “That isn’t what I meant,” he said, because the edge of fear in Rodimus’ field was intolerable. “I will not leave you suffering, Rodimus. But we cannot rush this. I need you to behave so I can prepare you.”

Rodimus looked at him with fevered optics and nodded frantically. “I will, I’ll behave, I’ll be so good, Mags, I’ll do everything you tell me, I promise I will, just please, please--”

Desire pooled insistently beneath his pelvic armor at the instant obedience and Ultra Magnus ground his denta.  _“Rodimus!”_  he snapped. It came out more harshly than he’d intended but he needed Rodimus to stop that begging before it made him do something they would both regret. Drift had somehow gotten Ratchet to snap out of his coding long enough to get through to him, but how had he done it? Magnus couldn’t remember and now was not the time to go looking for surveillance records to find out. He tightened his grip on Rodimus and said, “We cannot rush this or I will  _hurt_ you, do you understand?”

“You can, I don’t mind, you can do whatever you want, anything you want,” Rodimus breathed eagerly, surrendering his full weight to Magnus’ hold on his wrists and locking both legs around his waist. “Please, I need you,  _please!”_

… no, he clearly didn’t understand, and Magnus didn’t know how to get through to him. Rodimus pulled him in with his legs and pressed their hips together. He cried out with pleasure at the contact, rocking, rubbing, moaning at the friction on his anterior node, his valve hot and slick and for once Magnus didn’t even think about the mess on his plating because he was far too busy thinking about how good Rodimus’ valve felt on his panel and how much better it was going to feel around his spike…

His panel was already starting to retract before Magnus snapped back to his senses. Rodimus was too far gone now. He was fully in the grip of his heat coding, far too revved up to think, and Magnus wasn’t far behind him. Those moans of his were just so damn hot, the rise and fall of his body with his movement too alluring, his field too distracting, and everything in Magnus ached to give him the overload he needed.

So be it.

Magnus freed one hand, still keeping Rodimus’ wrists pinned with the other--he didn’t trust himself if Rodimus got his hands on him again, oh no. Sparks crackled between the speedster’s armor and protoform and Magnus shifted away from that sweet friction. Rodimus cried out in frustration and tried to tighten his legs to pull him back in, but he was not in charge here. Rodimus would get his overload when  _Magnus_  said so, not a second before.

For once Ultra Magnus was in command, and it was about time he made that clear.

Rodimus opened his mouth to beg some more and Magnus laid a single large finger over his lips. “Hush. Be still,” he ordered, and when Rodimus instantly obeyed, biting his lip to stifle his words as his body froze, Magnus had to force back his own moan. How many times had he imagined Rodimus like this, hanging on his every word, attention fully focused on him? How many nights had he dreamed of hearing him beg for his touch or imagined finally giving in to the urge to run his hands across that gleaming gold spoiler or over his sleek thighs?

The reality was everything he had ever hoped it would be, and he hadn’t even done half of those things yet.

… no, no, he couldn’t think about that right now, couldn’t let himself imagine everything he wanted to do to Rodimus, all the things he was  _going_ to do to Rodimus. Not now, not yet.

But the way he’d so willingly submitted, instantly, without hesitation… that was irresistible. “Don’t move until I tell you to,” Magnus commanded. The surge of assent in Rodimus’ field showed his understanding, but he didn’t nod--oh yes, he was  _surprisingly_  good at this, and the eagerness in his field left no doubts about how much he genuinely wanted this surrender. Magnus rewarded him by stroking his fingertip over Rodimus’ lips, freeing his lower lip from between his denta and smoothing away the dent in the supple metal.

The speedster whined despite a clear effort to hold the sound in, but while Magnus could be stern, he didn’t intend to be cruel. Rodimus might truly want to submit but the coding was riding him hard. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up for long. “Do you need an overload, Captain?” he murmured, tracing a line down his throat and over the flames on his chestplate.

“Please,” Rodimus breathed, pure desperation flooding his field. “Please, yes,  _please._ ”

Magnus pressed his palm flat to the Autobot symbol over his spark--he could feel the energy throbbing beneath his palm--and dragged his hand straight down. Rodimus was panting now, frame shaking hard, whimpering with every exhale, and he  _still_  didn’t move. Had Magnus truly thought he had no discipline?

He believed in rewarding a job well done. “Then you shall have one,” Magnus purred as he cupped his array and slid one thick finger inside. Rodimus shuddered as his valve clenched around the teasing, thrusting digit. His helm thudded back against the wall and the arched line of his throat was a temptation Magnus felt no desire to resist. He leaned in and nuzzled at the sensitive cords and lines, feeling the vibrations from the speedster’s muted vocalizer. Ahh, yes, he had told him to hush, hadn’t he. The obedience pleased him and he traced the line of his collar with his glossa before he whispered, “Let me hear you now. Sing for me, pretty,” and stroked his thumb over his anterior node.

And Rodimus sang a very sweet song indeed, overloading with a spiraling cry that might have been Magnus’ name, his calipers cycling down tight on his finger. Pleasure flooded his field and Magnus had to remind himself not to tighten his grip on his wrists as he held onto his control with everything he had. He settled for biting the juncture of Rodimus’ neck and collar assembly instead as his panel finally overrode even his iron will and snapped open. His spike throbbed as it pressurized but the tightness around his finger was a reminder that Rodimus wasn’t even close to being ready to take him. He worked another finger inside that rippling heat and Rodimus’ cries intensified, inarticulate now as he lost his words in ecstasy.

It was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard in his life. Magnus withdrew his fingers, thrust them back inside, did it again, then scissored them against the tight lining. Rodimus was absolutely soaking now, his valve gripping Magnus’ fingers, calipers rippling in an effort to draw him in deeper. “Oh, you sing so well,” he murmured against his lover’s throat as he fingered him, rubbing all the interior nodes he could find. “I think I want to hear it again. Would you like to overload again for me, Captain?”

“Yes yes please yes ohhh Primus yes!” Rodimus cried, his hips rocking along with the slick glide of Magnus’ fingers inside him. Every slide back into his valve made Magnus’ spike throb, made it that much harder for him to focus on what he needed to do. Magnus’ fans were roaring now and his spike ached to replace his fingers, but some things couldn’t be rushed.

And after all, Ultra Magnus would not be Ultra Magnus if he didn’t see to all the details and do even the most difficult job  _properly._

Even as wet and eager as Rodimus was, it took him a few minutes to stretch him enough to ease a third finger inside him. The increase in sensation sent Rodimus into overload again, his fans redlining as he cried out over and over. Magnus closed his optics and mentally reviewed the  _Proper Sludge Reclamation Procedures_  section of the Tyrest Accord to keep himself focused on how important this was instead of just forcing his spike into the clenching, rippling heat that felt so amazing around his fingers. Instinct pounded in his processor, his frame burned, and above all the other temptations, Rodimus  _wanted_  it. He more than wanted it, he was  _begging_  for it, and Ultra Magnus himself had wanted this for far longer than just since Rodimus had gone into heat.

Rodimus’ overload finally passed and left him shaking, but far more importantly, his valve finally,  _finally_  loosened around Magnus’ thrusting digits. He spread his fingers experimentally, testing the stretch of the lining. Rodimus gasped as his fingers met little resistance, and when he added his fourth finger, Rodimus moaned but his field showed only eagerness, no discomfort. He was ready.

_Thank Primus._

Rodimus whimpered a protest when Magnus withdrew his trembling fingers. “Hush,” he said, but gently this time. “Do you want more, Captain?” Rodimus instantly nodded, tightening his legs around Magnus’ waist as excitement and anticipation sent thrills through his field, but Ultra Magnus smiled down at him and shook his head. Now that he no longer had to force himself to wait, he couldn’t get the memory of that sweet begging out of his mind. He pressed his mouth to his captain’s audial and murmured, “You’ll have to ask me nicely.”

A shudder of pure hunger rocked Rodimus’ entire frame. “Oh frag, Magnus, please,” he moaned, “please let me have your spike, oh Primus, I need you inside me, I want you so bad, please please  _please_  frag me, I’ll do anything, please--”

Ultra Magnus vented out unsteadily as desire surged through him. “Very good, Captain,” he said, finally releasing Rodimus’ wrists to lock his arm around his waist instead. The praise made Rodimus whimper happily and he grabbed hold of his shoulder stacks as Magnus carried the speedster to his berth. He looked gorgeous when Magnus lay him down there, a brilliant explosion of color against the expanse of clean regulation white. “Very nice, very convincing indeed. I’m going to give you what you want.”

Rodimus whimpered again, grabbing hold of Magnus’ wrist and pulling him down to join him. “Be still,” Magnus whispered as he let himself be drawn, pausing only when the tip of his spike pressed against the slick opening between Rodimus’ thighs. Oh, how he wanted to thrust in hard and fast, but even well-stretched, Ultra Magnus was a much larger mech than Rodimus. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t let himself forget that. “Be still, and stop me if anything hurts.”

He expected Rodimus to respond with his typical bravado, to urge him on or mock his caution, but he didn’t. That willing submission continued as he cried out but didn’t move as Magnus started to push inside. And sweet Cybertron, the sweet, slick heat of his valve felt so good, so,  _so_ good, that for a moment all he could do was offline his optics and drown in the sensation. Even with all his preparation, Rodimus was  _tight_ around him, tight and soft and wet and  _perfect_ , and he withdrew almost all the way just to experience the sensation of sinking inside him all over again. He clenched his fists and forced himself to stop when half his length was inside, intending to ask Rodimus if he was all right.

But Rodimus overloaded again before he could get the words out. The feeling of his valve rippling around Magnus’ fingers had been good, but feeling it all around his spike while hearing Rodimus crying out in pleasure?  _Too much._ Ultra Magnus’ hips snapped back and drove forward before he realized he was going to do it, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. Rodimus clenched his thighs around his waist as he sank deeper with every thrust, moaning and begging and babbling half-formed praises that destroyed any last remnants of his control. “Oh frag, oh yes, you feel so good, oh  _Primus_  yes,  _so good_ , just like that, just like that, don’t stop, oh Primus please don’t stop…”

He opened his mouth to say that he  _couldn’t_  stop, but all that came out was a staticked, strangled groan. He let his frame communicate for him instead, his thrusts never slowing as he braced all his weight on one elbow to free his other hand to finally stroke the glossy curve of that beautiful spoiler. Rodimus lost his words entirely in a burst of static and arched into the touch. Bright gold hands clutched at anything he could reach--Magnus’ chest, his hips, his arms, every caress spurring him closer to overload.

But the last test his restraint could take was when Rodimus looked straight up into his optics and shouted, “Oh  _Magnus!”_  Ultra Magnus curled both arms around the smaller mech and held him tight as the pressure at the base of his spike built and built and finally burst free. Overload crashed over him, whiting out his optics, sizzling through his frame, sending light dancing between them as Rodimus went over again too. Magnus surged in to the hilt as Rodimus writhed in ecstasy beneath him, shouting his name again and again until his voice gave out in an overwhelmed screech of feedback.

It was several minutes before Ultra Magnus regained his senses. He suddenly pulled back and looked anxiously down at Rodimus, remembering how utterly he’d lost control of himself and how completely he’d forgotten his determination to be gentle. “Are you all right?” he demanded.

Rodimus didn’t open his optics but he smiled as his EM field hummed with bliss. “Oh yeahhh,” he purred in a voice still heavily laced with static. He stretched luxuriously, making Magnus acutely aware that his spike was still firmly buried inside him. The flex and squeeze of calipers around his length sent a little aftershock of pleasure through his sensornet, and the little wriggle he did with his hips was even better. “Mmmm, can we do that again? I wanna do it again.”

Normally an overload that strong would’ve left Ultra Magnus sated and nearly unable to move for hours, but thanks to the heat coding and the wonderful way Rodimus’ valve quivered around him, his spike hadn’t even softened. He vented in deeply to savor the pheromones in the air and smiled, well aware that it was more than a little predatory, before murmuring, “Ask me nicely.”

.

Rodimus sighed as he guided the laser scalpel in another swirling line across the top of his desk, hardly paying any attention to the random patterns he burned into the surface. His processor was quite firmly  _elsewhere_  right now.

Specifically on the datapad that lay beside his latest graffiti.

Ultra Magnus featured prominently in the video feed being replayed on the small screen. The enormous mech was fighting his way through Swerve’s, demolishing anyone foolish enough to get within the reach of those massive fists, defeating foe after foe in quick succession. Even Trailbreaker stood no chance, his force-field crumpling under two heavy punches and the mech himself going down under the third.

Rodimus himself sat atop the bar, passively watching it all happen.

Waiting for the winner of his heat-fight to claim him.

He’d requested this footage from Red Alert without giving any explanation. He’d been surprised when the security officer had forwarded it with no questions asked. But then again, maybe he shouldn’t have been. Red saw just about everything that happened on the  _Lost Light_ , and he’d likely been observing Rodimus’ own reactions to watching Ratchet and Drift agree to a formal courtship in the wake of the medic’s heat. He probably could guess what was on his captain’s mind.

Returning to strictly-business formality with his second-in-command after spending three of the most erotic days of his life with him was seriously starting to get to Rodimus. He couldn’t get the memories out of his processor. He’d been trying so hard to convince the crew that sharing a heat cycle didn’t mean that the mecha involved couldn’t return to normalcy afterward, but he wasn’t having a damn bit of success convincing himself.

And Ultra Magnus seemed completely satisfied with the return of their status quo.

Drift and Ratchet hadn’t returned to their status quo. Neither had Mainframe and Jackpot. Rewind and Chromedome were mooning around the ship like the newlyweds they hadn’t been in thousands of years. Even Perceptor and Brainstorm seemed to be starting a little something despite neither one of them even going into heat, and they weren’t the only ones.

It was beginning to feel like everyone on his damn ship was starting a new romance but Rodimus.

The sound of his door sliding open provided a welcome distraction from his frustrated thoughts. Rodimus reached out to switch off the datapad, but his hand froze when he belatedly caught sight of exactly what he’d just carved into his desk.

Two words.

One name.

Inside a slagging  _spark,_  like some hopeless starry-opticked romantic.

The heavy tread approaching his desk could only belong to one mech and Rodimus shoved the datapad over the top of the glyphs before he could see what he’d done. Then he kicked his feet up on the desk and plastered on his very best casual grin. “Hey there, Mags, what can I do you for?”

Ultra Magnus frowned at his lack of decorum but didn’t comment on it. That was progress, of a sort… or maybe he’d just given up on convincing Rodimus to act like a captain. He held a stack of datapads in one hand. “I am here to deliver the latest supply requisitions. I understand that the medical supplies are needed rather urgently, Captain,” he said, and Rodimus tried not to shiver at hearing that word in that voice.

_Do you need an overload, Captain?_

_Oh yes, I need one rather urgently…_

He wrenched his focus back with sheer effort of will. “Great, thanks. I’ll get right on those,” he said, making an effort to sound a lot more enthusiastic than he was about the prospect of trying to figure out where in this sector of the galaxy they might actually find all the specialized things they needed to keep a ship of this size running. At least it would be a distraction. He held out his hands to take the datapads--

\--too late. Ultra Magnus had already started to put them down on his desk, and his abrupt stillness was the only confirmation Rodimus needed to know that he’d seen what he’d been watching.

_Slagging pit._

“Oh yeah, I was just going over Swerve’s claim to be reimbursed for property damage,” Rodimus extemporized on the fly, clinging to that casual smile with everything he had. “Place was kinda messed up when we got done with it, so I--”

“That claim was approved weeks ago, Captain.” Ultra Magnus didn’t say it loudly--in fact, for a mech of his size, he was remarkably soft-spoken most of the time--but it silenced Rodimus all the same. “I paid for the damage personally, since I was the responsible party for much it.”

Rodimus gave up the act and put his feet down again. “Yeah, I think a compelling case could be made for me being ultimately responsible for  _all_  of it.” He looked down at the datapad again since it was much easier than holding Magnus’ optics. “I was just refreshing my memory, that’s all. This part of it is still something of a blur,” he finally admitted as the Magnus on the screen felled his final opponent and turned to claim his prize. Watching the mech standing right beside him pick Rodimus up and carry him out while Rodimus kissed every bit of him that he could reach was the definition of awkward. His face burned as he blurted, “Don’t worry, I’m not obsessing or trying to make things awkward. Like you said, spending a heat together doesn’t have to mean anything else.” Rodimus reached out to stop the playback from looping back to the start like it already had four times.

But Ultra Magnus covered the button before he could turn it off. Rodimus froze with his hand in midair, unsure of what to do next, but Magnus spoke before he could keep babbling. “Of all of the things I’ve said to you, that’s the one you’re finally going to remember?”

Rodimus didn’t quite dare look up at him as the video restarted. “I remember everything you said to me,” he whispered as  _sing for me, pretty_  echoed in his audials. When he finally worked up the bearings to look at his SIC again, the look in Magnus’ optics froze him all over again.

Ultra Magnus gazed down at him with a focused intensity that he had only seen from him once before and hadn’t been able to get out of his processor ever since.

Finally he spoke. “I do not approve of bragging, Captain, and I believe the record will show that it is not boastful to state that I am very rarely wrong. However,” he added, and the sight of the corner of his mouth curving in the merest hint of a smile was enough to freeze Rodimus’ vents with shock, “I am willing to concede that the statement you recalled may be one of those times.”

It took Rodimus a moment to understand what he was saying, and when he did, it took him another moment to mentally replay the audio just to make sure that he hadn’t imagined it.

And when the playback didn’t change, he shoved the datapads off his desk and climbed right up on top of it, going up on his knees to get closer to Ultra Magnus’ height. “If you meant what I think you meant, then get over here and kiss me.”

Magnus’ optics flared an instant before he grabbed Rodimus by the waist, pulled him right up against his frame, and kissed the triumphant smile right off his face.

Rodimus moaned as Magnus’ glossa tangled with his own. For all that they’d done together during his heat, they hadn’t kissed, and that was something he’d been regretting ever since he’d come to his senses in the medbay. The surge of passion in Ultra Magnus’ EM field made him pretty sure he hadn’t been the only one wrestling with that regret, and he wrapped his arms around Magnus’ neck and kissed him back with abandon.

He wasn’t sure how long it lasted before Ultra Magnus finally pulled away, but he was certain that it wasn’t nearly long enough. “Magnus,” he moaned, trying to draw him back down into kissing range again.

Magnus didn’t let himself be drawn even though his fans were running as fast as Rodimus’ own. “What… what are your intentions, Rodimus?” he murmured, and while the hoarse note of static in that deep voice wasn’t quite as good as another kiss would’ve been, it was pretty damn close.

And if he’d thought hearing Ultra Magnus call him  _captain_  in that sexy-as-frag voice was hot, hearing him say his name instead was a thousand times hotter.

He resisted the urge to answer with a vivid description of how much he’d like to reenact all of his favorite memories of spending his heat together. That wasn’t what Ultra Magnus had meant and Rodimus knew it. Still, even though he had no problem asking for what he wanted in the berth in even the most vivid detail, talking about the kind of thing Magnus was asking now was a lot harder.

But he wanted this badly enough to make the effort. “I don’t know if I’m a  _proper-courtship_  kind of mech, Mags,” Rodimus finally replied, hoping that his honesty wouldn’t mean the end of this before it truly began. “At least, not yet. But when I have a lover, I’m loyal to them and I don’t cheat. If you wanted to, I’d like to see if we could build something more from those days we spent together.” He made himself meet Ultra Magnus’ optics without trying to hide the nervousness in his own. “Now you tell me if that sounds like anything you’d be interested in.”

Ultra Magnus raised one eyebrow. “Giving orders?”

Rodimus shook his head, spark leaping hopefully as he recognized that purring tone. “Asking nicely.”

And this time, Ultra Magnus favored him with a real smile. “When you put it like that, how could I refuse?” he said, and Rodimus laughed and stretched up to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr as iopele. [Check out my tumblr page here!](http://iopele.tumblr.com/commissions)


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